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Archive for the ‘Spears’ Category

Cover thine eyes as
curled stink lines emanate from
thy naked dead pits.

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Ode to a Glittery Mallet

Step right up folks and
play yer luck–Whack-a-Brit’ll
make ya a meel’yon!

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Drowning in denim,
I gasp for air as my lungs
fill with fuzzy frill.

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Late-night meth binges
in liquor store parking lots
lead to Trash in Boots.

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Newest attraction!
See fer yerself!  Spearsnkin
caged fer yer safety!

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Images can mean
different things, but this one
rings most loud and clear.

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Forget the shaved head,
quick divorce, hospital stays—
don’t quit dreaming, kids!

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“Life as a party”
says an analyst?  More like
life at twelve years old.
 
(Be sure to click on the link above to read a handwriting expert’s opinion of Brit’s signature, as seen above.  How do you train to become a handwriting expert, anyway?  I want to do that for a living.)
 
 

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“Mommy, what’s up?” asked
the boy.  “Mommas shouldn’t drive
drunk,” as dress falls down.

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Stalkerazzi waits
alone for the payday when
Brit makes pit stop—score!
 
 

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